


Blood Eagle

by tatecorrigan



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dead animals, Gore, I don't think, M/M, Plot What Plot, dead deer do not eat, myspace au, not explicitly porny, roadkill, underage shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6644257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatecorrigan/pseuds/tatecorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There are better ways to watch your organs fail,” Hux offered conversationally. He risked a glance into Kylo’s face. </p><p>Kylo stared at him, eyes widening fractionally. “Like how,” he prompted, taking the bait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Eagle

“How much longer are we going to be out here?”

Hux paused with the shovel, resting it on the gritty asphalt to wipe at the dampness gathering at his brow. It was too warm in the season to be wearing a turtleneck but he persisted, dedicated in his appreciation for clean lines and the enveloping sense of armor, safe, powerful.

“This one, then there’s a deer almost ten miles up,” he nodded toward the road. He’d gotten a call from his father's friend in the county’s game and wildlife office earlier in the day, letting him know about the young buck run down by a minivan in the dark hours of the morning. It had been bloodshot and so none of the usual roadkill collectors would take it, but Hux didn’t mind a bit of ruin. He wasn’t after the meat.

Kylo shrugged, the fishnet shirt under his tattered t-shirt starting to itch under the heat. “It’s too hot,” He complained. Ripping holes in the t-shirt had been an exercise in concentration. Each hole had been deliberate, but Kylo was most proud of the one right under his heart, along the lower part of his ribcage. He stretched now, leaning to the right and allowing the sun to glint off his pale skin, trapped behind black polyester mesh. He hoped Hux would notice.

“You can sit in the truck bed, if you want,” Hux suggested, lifting the flattened bottom half of the opossum with the edge of the spade. “I can go real fast, you’d get a good breeze.” He smirked at the mental image of Kylo squatting in the bed of the truck, meticulously cut and colored hair whipping around his head in a frenzy. Kylo would probably try to tuck the flying locks behind his overlarge ears, moaning in anxiety as he continually failed.

Kylo reached up to push a clump of hair back, as if he could hear Hux’s thoughts. “Nooo,” he whined. “Just turn on the A/C. _God_.”

Hux shook the shovel, causing the rest of the carcass to slide into the Tupperware bin he kept in the truck bed just for this purpose. “It’s not my fault you dressed like an idiot. A slutty idiot,” he added, but the insult wasn’t nearly as warm as the midday sun. “It’s July, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re wearing a _turtleneck_.”

“It’s cotton. Cotton breathes.” Hux snapped the lid of the container shut and hoisted it back into the truck. “C’mon, I want to get that deer before the vultures do.”

Kylo climbed up into the truck, scrambling into the passenger seat and tucking his gangly legs under the dashboard. He was too gangly, Hux thought, not for the first time. His legs were too long for his torso, an unfortunate byproduct of inferior genetics not easily fixed. The best solutions would involve either shortening his femurs or adding a few vertebrae right above his sacrum. Hux preferred the latter idea, as it would require fewer incisions. The skin of his abdomen would adjust rapidly, growing to accommodate the additional length, and might not even split and scar him with stretch marks. Hux didn’t mind scars, as a rule; he just preferred that they be neat and orderly, and ideally imposed by his hand alone.

It was the question of how to add length to Kylo’s spine while maintaining the integrity of the nerves in his spinal cord that continued to confound Hux. Well, he had time, still. Today’s collection would help him to study the issue further. He put the truck into gear and pulled back onto the road. “Seatbelt,” he reminded Kylo. It wouldn’t do to have him shattered across the pavement in the event of a collision.

Kylo scowled and pulled the seatbelt across his lap. “Bet you’d like to see me go through the window,” he murmured.

Hux rolled his eyes. Kylo was in one of his moods again. “You’re really not useful to me as roadkill.” Too much time away from his precious MySpace profile, probably.

“You’d like the way it would look,” Kylo taunted, his flirting as unsubtle as his wardrobe. “All bloody and smeared out, _bllaahh_ ,” He crossed his arms and grinned ghoulishly in Hux’s direction.

“Hardly,” Hux said primly. On the horizon a gray smudge was forming, an oncoming summer storm. The cool air pushed at the front of the clouds would bring some welcome relief from the heat. Up ahead a dark form lay on the side of the road; the buck, waiting. Hux down shifted and pulled into the shoulder, slowing to a stop.

He unbuckled his seat belt and reached across Kylo’s lap to open the glove compartment, pulling out a handful of medical-grade nitrile gloves. He tossed a couple at Kylo. “There are better ways to watch your organs fail,” he offered conversationally. He risked a glance into Kylo’s face.

Kylo was staring at him, eyes widening fractionally. “Like how,” he prompted, taking the bait.

Hux licked his lips. He’d been doing some reading recently, gathering new ideas. Historical sources were often of dubious legitimacy, but could offer up some interesting thoughts on technique, nonetheless. He sat up but didn’t lean back, still uncomfortably violating Kylo’s space. “Have you heard of the blood eagle?”

Kylo could feel Hux’s breath ghosting across his sweat-damp neck when he spoke. “No,” he answered, shifting under Hux’s scrutinous gaze. Those green eyes were hard, shining. Hux was resting one elbow on the console between them, hand hanging over into Kylo’s seat, fingertips absently brushing over his thigh.

“It was a form of execution for the Vikings. Ritualized, for when they’d offer up sacrifices. Or punishment for crimes, sometimes both.” A pale, slender hand reached out and hovered over Kylo’s chest. Kylo looked down, avoiding the way Hux’s expression made his throat feel tight. Hux’s hand flattened, fingertips pressed together and pointing down toward Kylo’s sternum. “They’d cut into a man’s back, two cuts, on either side of his spine. Sever the connection between the spine and each of the ribs.” His hand came down, drawing firm lines in the cloth of Kylo’s shirt, catching at the curling edge of cut fabric. It was the wrong side of the body, but Kylo would get the point.

Hux curled his hand, fingertips digging in. “Then they’d pull each of his ribs out, pull them open, expose his thoracic cavity.” Kylo shifted under his touch, and Hux didn’t need to look to know the heat settling in Kylo’s lap just a few inches down. “Then they’d reach in and pull his lungs out,” the words came out almost a whisper now, awe evident in Hux’s tone as he leaned in closer. His hand rested now, flush across Kylo’s ribs and the top of his belly, rubbing firmly.

Kylo’s eyes had fallen half-lidded, eyeliner smearing as sweat trickled around the curve of his brow. His chest shuddered under Hux’s touch. The still, quiet cab of the truck was stifling, the heat heavy, oppressive. With a burn in his cheeks Kylo felt his hips cant up, unable to hide his stiffness. Hux’s hand traveled downward, and for a moment Kylo thought he might find quick relief but that touch turned at the hem of his shirt, edging back upward against hot, bare skin.

Hux pressed his hand even more firmly into Kylo’s belly, the sensation a little too tight, compressing his diaphragm. His thumb pressed up into the bottom of Kylo’s ribcage, finding the small tip of one floating rib. “You’d suffocate that way,” Hux continued, massaging the knuckle of his thumb into the end of the small rib. “Your lungs pulled out through your back, couldn’t get a breath.” If he applied just enough force, Hux thought, he could snap that little curve of bone, puncture a lung, or maybe pull it outward until it made a bruised, aching protrusion. He imagined getting his hand, his full hand, around it, gripping it firmly and opening up Kylo’s ribcage with a satisfying snap and crack.

Kylo bit the corner of his lower lip, huffing as he squirmed under Hux’s touch. No doubt he was fully hard now, maybe dripping a little, which may have been what urged him to reach down with one of those awkward, bony hands to rub at himself through his pants. Hux gave a small smile. “They’d salt your lungs,” he purred, voice slick like bleach. “Watch all the water pull out of your lungs as you suffocate, burning pain, hear you trying to suck air.”

“Open,” Kylo garbled out nonsensically, his palm grinding down into his crotch. Hux nodded.

“Yeah,” A hum of pleasure reverberated in Hux’s throat. “You’d be spread open. I’d see everything,” he whispered, and now he felt a tingle of heat in his own prick. “Be able to play with your guts.” His hand stuttered, gripping, at Kylo’s belly, as if grasping for his precious innards. He tilted his head down onto Kylo’s shoulder, momentarily lost. The truck was quiet as they both panted, fantasizing.

A low, distant rumble made the frame of the truck buzz. Hux sucked in a breath, stirred from his reverie. The rain was coming. He turned his face to kiss at Kylo’s jawline. “C’mon,” he urged, leaning back. “Before the rain ruins it.” Kylo groaned in want and frustration, but pulled his hand away from his lap and pulled open the door. He tumbled out, grunting as his feet his the road and his cock throbbed in protest of the lack of satisfaction.

The deer carcass stretched out, angling away from the highway, neck twisted unnaturally to point toward the dark, lush copse of trees just past the roadside ditch. Under the weird light of the quickly approaching clouds the grass and leaves shone in saturated greens, roadside weeds fluttering slightly in the quickening breeze.

Following Hux’s lead, Kylo pulled on the medical gloves as Hux grabbed the back legs of the carcass. Kylo reached down for the front legs, navigating carefully around the rack of antlers partially implanted into the gravel and dirt. One dead, glassy eye stared up at him from beneath long lashes. A thin tongue lolled from the buck’s mouth. They hoisted the whole corpse into the back of the truck, where Hux loosely tucked a tarp over it. “Good,” he said, wiping at his brow with his elbow before pulling his gloves off and shoving them into a black trash bag wedged between the wall of the truck bed and the plastic bin full of opossum parts. “We’ll get these into the beetle bins as soon as we get back. Then we can have some fun,” his gaze flicked up to Kylo, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

Kylo only avoided his gaze and pulled off his gloves, stuffing them into the trash bag. He walked back to the passenger side of the cab as Hux jumped into the driver’s seat. As he turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, Kylo afforded one last look at the brown smear of oxidized blood on the road. The coming rain would wash it away.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and maybe Hux won't flay you alive. Unless you ask nicely.


End file.
